


Siren Meets Doctor Strange!

by vintagetypewriter



Series: Siren Meets! [2]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Found Family, Magical Realism, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagetypewriter/pseuds/vintagetypewriter
Summary: The Avengers have run their course, and Temperance Ward is left behind to pick up the pieces of the life she'd built around them. Her new, monotonous life feels like a punishment for her lack of self-control in Siberia, until a sorcerer steps in to introduce her to a new world of excitement and possibilities.*Follow-up to "Siren Meets the Avengers!" Story is set between Civil War and Thor: Ragnarok with adventures that take inspiration from the Doctor Strange (2015-2018) comics.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Stephen Strange & Original Character(s), Stephen Strange & Original Female Character(s), Stephen Strange/Original Character(s), Stephen Strange/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Siren Meets! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1389337
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**BOOK II**

Siren Meets Doctor Strange!

* * *

Chapter One

Temperance Ward, true to her nature, was in way over her head.

“Alright, thank you, Mr. Daniels,” Mrs. Embry said, clapping her hands to signal that the class should follow suit, “I’ve always wondered about a day in the life of a garbage collector.”

Temperance shifted uncomfortably in her seat, straightening her blazer. Teenagers made her nervous. Most of the students in the classroom had already turned to look at her in anticipation. 

“Next, we have a special guest filling in for May Parker -- Temperance Ward, of Stark Industries, is here with Peter Parker to share about her work! Let’s all give her a hand!” Mrs. Embry said, extending a hand in Temp’s direction to signal her to come to the front. Temperance made her way through the desks to the front of the room and smiled at all the teenagers and parents who stared at her with stupefied faces.

“Hello,” Temperance began, “Like Mrs. Embry said, I’m Temperance Ward, and I have been working for Stark Industries for about seven years now. I started as an intern at AccuTech and worked my way up -- right now I am the head of Scholarship and Education Funds. Basically, I look for opportunities to fund STEM projects for high school and college students who show extra promise.”

Temperance shot a glance at Peter, who, though obviously nervous, gave her a subtle thumbs up. He had asked her to come to career day about a month ago, as May was temporarily between jobs. She had been averse to the idea, knowing that Peter’s classmates would ask her all sorts of uncomfortable questions if given the chance, but Tony had talked her into it. 

_ He looks up to you,  _ Tony had guilt-tripped her,  _ Besides, his classmates tease him about his internship. Is it too much to ask for you to help his reputation a little bit? _

Temp still hated the idea, but had resolved to do it for Peter, to whom she’d grown much closer over the last several months. Peter had proven to be a more difficult ward than she’d anticipated, and after the fiasco with Toomes and his crew, she was eager to do whatever it took to give him a normal life. She had made a deal with him -- if he could stay out of trouble for a full month, she would represent him at career day in May’s place. He’d held up his end of the bargain, and now it was her turn. 

Temperance spoke for her allotted five minutes about the kind of work she did, soliciting applications for relevant scholarships and discussing the importance of non-profit work and philanthropy. 

“Thank you,” Mrs. Embry facilitated, standing again, “are there any questions for Ms. Ward?”

Every hand except for Peter’s went up, and Temperance bit her lip, fidgeting. Even a couple of the parents had raised their hands. This was the part she had not been looking forward to. She knew that Peter’s class would be relatively uninterested in the non-profit part of her job. Mrs. Embry gave her an encouraging look, and she cleared her throat.

“Alright,” she said, pointing to a blonde girl in the front row, “go ahead.”

“What would you say is your favorite part of your job?” She asked. Temperance gave a friendly nod, thankful for the question.

“I would have to say that meeting with students is my favorite part,” she replied honestly, “It’s fun to hear all of the original ideas everyone has for research. The rest is basically paperwork.”

There was a small laugh of acknowledgment among the crowd before everyone’s hands shot back into the air. Temp gestured to another student.

“How close would you say the Avengers are?” The boy asked. When Temp hesitated, he continued “Like, before? Did you all live together? Was it just work, or were you friends, too?”

“Jake, Ms. Ward is here to talk about her current job,” Mrs. Embry reminded him.

“Oh, it’s alright,” Temperance assured her, remembering what Tony had said about how this would help Peter get along well at school, “yes, we’re all friends. When you spend time with your co-workers, you grow pretty close. Yes?” She continued, pointing to another student.

“When you control a person,” The boy asked, “Do you have to speak, or can you just do it with your mind?”

“Uh, well,” Temperance replied, “I don’t really have much experience with that, because I don’t use it, but I’m not telepathic, so...”

She trailed off and called on someone else to signify that it was time to move on. The girl she called on gave her a casual, tight-lipped smile and leaned forward on her elbows, “What did Stark Industries do to help those who are shelter and food insecure after a major conflict?” 

Temperance took a moment to muse that this one had to be MJ, and she was thankful for the softball question that brought them around to something she didn’t mind talking about. Peter had begun mentioning MJ more and more, and Temperance could see why. She took a minute to explain The Department of Damage Control and everything Stark Industries had done to help clean up the mess that was often left in the Avengers’ wake. She got through another two or three uncomfortable questions before the bell rang. Peter slid out of his seat and was at her side in a moment, ushering her out the door before any of his classmates could bother her for a selfie.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, huh?” He said as they weaved through the hallways, ignoring the stares. One of the good things about living in New York City was that most people didn’t care to see a celebrity on the streets -- she was often stared at, but people usually kept their distance. That wasn’t the vibe at Midtown High School. 

“You owe me,” Temp said. 

“No, I stayed out of trouble, remember? I earned it,” He reminded her with one of his playful little smiles. Ned approached them, looking as excited as he always did.

“Ms. Ward, I can’t believe you’re here! This is so great!”

“Hi, Ned,” Temp greeted with a friendly smile. She liked Ned Leeds -- he was a good, grounding influence in Peter’s life and could be trusted. Ned walked along with them as Peter grabbed some things from his locker, and they exited the school. They said their goodbyes after Ned and Peter made plans to meet later that evening.

“Temp, I’m gonna just get in a quick workout--” he began, but Temp stopped short, turning to face him. A ‘workout’ meant that he wanted to go swinging around the city and find someone to help. 

“No, no, no. I told May I would take you to the lab today to put in a couple hours of work,” she said. After May had learned about Peter’s  _ extracurriculars,  _ things had become so much simpler. Now she could communicate freely with May about Peter, unlike the first couple months of his internship, when everything had been hush-hush. It had been May’s idea for Peter to move forward with real research as a condition of his being Spider-Man. Around the time May found out, Peter had also started having trouble paying attention in class and had begun to skip school. May, Temp, and Tony were all deeply invested in Peter making the most of his intelligence and getting into a good university. Peter sighed and followed her to the street.

“Where is Happy?” Temperance murmured, checking her watch and glancing around.

“How about I just take us?” Peter suggested with a glint in his eye.

“You know we can’t do that,” Temp said. She couldn’t be spotted with Peter while he was in his suit -- people were used to seeing her with Peter, and it would make it too easy to connect his identity to Spider-Man, “besides, I don’t feel like throwing up today.”

“Okay, well how about I just meet you there?” He said. Temp sighed.

“Fine. But you go straight there -- no pit stops,” She negotiated. He happily agreed and ran off before she could get in another word. 

* * *

“What part of  _ no pit stops  _ was unclear?” Temp asked with a raised eyebrow as Peter entered the lab with a Delmar’s bag.

“Ham and cheese with dijon mustard,” he said, pulling a sandwich out of the bag and tossing it to her. Temperance accepted the offer and unwrapped the sandwich, unsurprised to find that it was squashed flat. At first, she had thought that this happened because he was stuffing the sandwiches into his suit, but after eating at restaurants with him, she knew that this was just how he thought sandwiches should be prepared. Temperance was sitting at a lab table with a stack of internship applications in front of her, and Peter walked over to another island, throwing his backpack down and arranging a few beakers.

“No chemicals until you’re done eating,” said Temp, chewing on a bite of her sandwich. 

“I’m not five, you know,” Peter replied. Temp patted the counter in front of her, gesturing for him to come sit across from her. 

“I know,” She said, “Come eat with me.”

Peter, happy to be invited instead of told, pulled up a stool and sat down, unwrapping his own sandwich, “thanks for coming today.” 

Temperance nodded, “it’s a shame I didn’t get to see Flash.”

Peter laughed, “I’m sure he’ll hear about it soon enough.”

“Good,” Temp said, picking a burnt edge off of her sandwich, “maybe it’ll shut him up for a while.” 

“I don’t think that’s possible, but thanks anyway.” 

“MJ seemed pretty cool,” she continued, subtly eyeing him for a reaction as he took a bite of his sandwich. His eyebrows furrowed, and he shifted in his seat a little bit, clearing his throat before swallowing.

“How’d you know it was her?”

“Because she’s  _ exactly  _ how you described.”

Peter’s cheeks held a tinge of pink, “yeah, she’s a really interesting person. She’s passionate about a lot of stuff.”

“Seems like it,” Temp said, nodding thoughtfully, “have you ever considered asking her out?”

Peter’s head shot up, eyes wide and mouth hanging slack, “what? Ask--ask her...why do you say that?”

“Oh, no reason,” Temperance insisted, “I just think you’d be cute together.”

Peter went back to studying his sandwich, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smirked at him as she finished off her sandwich, “well, if you need advice, I’m here.” 

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes, “You’d have to fight May for it, though.”

“I bet,” Temp said, balling up the sandwich paper and tossing it at the garbage can. The room was quiet for a minute while Peter continued eating.

“Did you ever wish you had a Mom?” Peter asked, “Growing up, I mean.”

Temperance straightened a bit at that, taken by surprise.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, “but only when I saw what other people had. My dad never gave me a reason to miss my mother. He was enough.”

Peter nodded thoughtfully. Temp knew this wasn’t about having a mom -- May was fulfilling that role admirably. This was about the absence of a father figure in Peter’s life, and his desire to fill that void. 

“And besides, Tony nags just as much as any mother,” she added lightly. Now that Peter was finished with his sandwich, too, she pulled her stack of applications back in front of her, “have you thought of any new changes to your formula this week?” she asked.

To make things more streamlined and help Peter to enjoy his research and avoid feeling overwhelmed, Temp had allowed him to use his research requirement to play with (and hopefully improve) his web formula. He’d gone through several versions at his point, and was always jotting down new ideas -- he really was a brilliant kid.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna try one minor thing today,” he said, cleaning up his mess and then heading back over to his own lab table. Then, with a cheeky smile, he nodded to the applications and added “need me to look at any of those?”

Temperance would usually do the initial review of applications and pull the ones that seemed the most interesting. Then, Tony would look over them in a second review to judge each project’s scientific feasibility. Occasionally, when Tony was busy, Temp would ask Peter to take a look, and it was starting to make him arrogant.

“I’ll manage,” she said dryly, turning her attention to the first application.

* * *

“Welcome back, Temperance,” a familiar, computer-generated voice greeted as Temp entered her apartment and locked the door behind her.

“Lights please, Penny,” she replied. Penny turned the lights to a low setting, and Temp hung her bag and keys on their respective hooks.

“Shall I start the tea kettle?” Penny asked.

“No, thank you, Penny,” said Temperance, “I think I’ll just take a shower and head to bed.”

Penelope, the AI that Tony had designed specifically for her home, took the hint and left Temperance to her thoughts. Temp sat down at her kitchen’s breakfast bar and sighed, running a hand through her hair. Another day had passed just like the last one, and another one waited tomorrow. She told herself the same thing she had told herself a thousand times to try and ward off the existential dread of a stagnant life --  _ one day at a time. _


	2. Chapter 2

“I heard career day went pretty smoothly,” May said as Temperance hung her purse on the back of a bar stool and hopped up to sit next to her. 

“It was something,” Temp replied before signalling the bartender and ordering a drink.

“Well, thanks again for agreeing to do it. I know it meant a lot to Peter.”

“Of course,” Temp said, taking a swig of the drink that was placed in front of her, “any luck on your interview?”

“They offered me the position,” May said, “but I think I’m gonna turn it down. I don’t want to just take the first thing that comes around. Life’s too short to waste time doing something you don’t really love, you know?”

Temperance wished she could see the world the way May Parker did sometimes. She nodded, taking another drink, “Well, if anything falls through, you’ll still have a job waiting for you at Stark Industries if you want it,” she reminded her friend.

“I appreciate it, Temperance,” May replied. She always called Temp by her full name, “but I don’t think the corporate world is quite for me.”

Temperance nodded thoughtfully -- she couldn’t argue with that.

“Is it for you?” May asked, giving her a meddling look over the rim of her glass.

“Obviously,” Temp said, “it’s practically the only thing I’m good at.”

“Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you  _ have  _ to do it,” May told her, “And just because you’re  _ not  _ good at something else doesn’t mean that you can’t choose to do it anyway.”

Temp gave her a pointed look, “if you have something you’d like to say, you should just say it.”

“I’m not saying anything,” May insisted, “I’m just saying --”

Temperance groaned.

“I’m  _ just saying  _ that you don’t seem very happy,” May continued.

“I’m happy,” Temp said, but she could hear how defensive she sounded as it came out of her mouth, “I mean...it’s unrealistic to be happy all the time.”

“I know that,” said May, “but are you who you want to be? Are you doing what you want to be doing? Because those things matter.”

“I don’t  _ know  _ what I want to be doing, May.”

“You’ll find out,” May said easily, “You’re a smart girl.”

“Well, I don’t think that’ll be any time soon,” Temp replied, “All I can think about right now is how it’s open season everywhere I go,” she muttered.

“That bad?” May asked, her tone sympathetic.

“The more I try to suppress it, the more people’s cords press into my awareness,” she said, running a weary hand through her hair. She eyed the rowdy group of people at the table nearest them. Drunk people’s cords practically wrapped themselves around her.

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to suppress it so hard,” May said softly, “I’m not saying to  _ use  _ it, but...you know, maybe acknowledge the cords when you sense them, and let it pass.” 

“I keep trying to, but I can’t help it. Every time I sense one, I just feel so guilty about what happened…” her voice caught in her throat. 

“In Siberia,” May finished for her. Temperance nodded, taking a swig of her drink to force down the lump in her throat. 

“So I just...bear down,” she said, shifting to look May in the eye, “What I  _ want  _ is to never lose control like that again. And if that means I have to live the rest of my life doing paperwork, then fine.”

“I understand,” May told her with kind eyes, “I just think that maybe there are better ways to maintain that control that don’t involve as much suffering. Have you considered therapy? Maybe it would help to talk it through with somebody.”

“Maybe,” Temp agreed, trying not to sound too dismissive of the idea, “I kind of doubt anyone has personal experience with this kind of thing.”

“A lot of therapists don’t have personal experience with a lot of things, but they still manage,” May said with a shrug. 

“I guess so.”

“Just consider it. I’ll give you the number of a friend that I’d recommend -- she’s really great -- and you can decide if you want to use it or not.”

Temperance nodded, appreciating the unobtrusive offer, “I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” May said brightly, clapping her hands together, “now, speaking of people I want to introduce you to…”

“ _ No,”  _ Temp said, recognizing the look in May’s eye, “ _ Not  _ another one of your setups.”

“This one is  _ really  _ good, I’m telling you,” May insisted, “it’s meant to be.”

“Well, if it’s meant to be, I guess you don’t need to introduce us,” Temperance said. 

“Just let me tell you a little bit about him, and  _ then  _ you can decide,” May bargained, “His name is Greg, and I met him--”

“ _ Greg?”  _ Temp interrupted, trying not to laugh, “No. No Gregs.”

* * *

Temperance, feeling a little bit tipsy and very emotionally taxed, decided that a walk might do her good, and chose to walk back to her apartment after she was finished with May. A combination of the alcohol and the residual angst from the conversation with May had left her disoriented and anxious. She hadn’t made it three blocks before she began to regret the decision to walk. As her panic rose, she pushed it down and continued to walk, making her second bad decision of the night and choosing to cut through Times Square. Hands shoved into her jacket pockets, she walked at a brisk New Yorker pace with her head down, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. Usually, she would circumvent Times Square and go the longer way around, because the tourist population of Manhattan didn’t always know how to act when they recognized her.

As she weaved through the bustling night crowd, she tried to focus on her breathing and ignore the hundreds of cords swirling around her. She wished her jacket had a hood as she allowed her hair to fall down around the sides of her face. At first, she was thankful that nobody seemed to want to bother her. Then, in a moment of clarity, she realized that a path was being cleared as everyone stepped out of her way. She looked up to see that, not only had everyone stepped clear of her -- they were all standing with their backs to her, motionless. The hair on the back of her neck rose, anticipating that something terrible was about to happen, but unsure how to interpret the phenomenon. The image of Loki and his staff sprung to her mind, even though she knew that the mind stone was now a part of Vision. 

She whirled around, searching for any sign of danger. The crowd spun with her, performing the same action with an eerie lack of emotion. Temperance froze, her shoulders tensing and her breathing speeding up. In her eagerness to get through unseen, had she willed them to turn away? She could see it now -- she  _ had  _ grabbed several cords. She tried to release, but it was like forcing your shoulders to relax, only to become suddenly  _ too _ aware of your body and clam up even more. She brought her hands up to her head, pressing on both sides to try and calm herself. Everyone standing in Times Square did the same, and she screwed her eyes shut to avoid seeing them. She took a moment, trying to slow her breathing and praying that when she opened her eyes, everything would be back to normal. 

But luck wasn’t on her side, and when she lowered her hands and opened her eyes, everyone was still standing around her, staring, as non-emotive as before. She turned and tried to walk through the crowd, but the people, now latched onto her own will, all moved in the same direction, following her blindly. 

“No,” she pleaded, “No, stop! I want you to stop. I’m sorry.”

She continued to push ahead of the crowd, murmuring pleas and apologies. It felt like the world was closing in around her -- as if everyone in the universe had their eyes on her and were watching as she was folded into a tiny, steel box. She was losing her mind, surely. And it made her a danger to everyone. She fell to her knees, throwing her hands over her head and curling into a ball. It was a dream. It had to be. The silence around her was deafening.

* * *

Peter Parker’s spidey sense was particularly unsettling as he swung toward Times Square. He’d been given permission to go out while his Aunt May was busy with Temperance, and the evening had been relatively quiet until the current uneasiness set in. Taxis were honking and people were shouting even more than usual as he neared the main stretch -- everyone was frustrated that there was some kind of blockage in the flow of traffic. As he reached the square, however, things went eerily quiet. Below, a few hundred people were curled up on the street in a ball, hands drawn over their heads for protection. 

“What the --” Peter murmured, swinging lower. He looked around, trying to ascertain what they were cowering from, but there was no discernible threat, as far as he could tell. He landed on the ground in between a few people and placed a gentle hand on one woman’s shoulder, “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

The woman didn’t respond -- didn’t even move, “anybody?” He tried, turning in a  circle to see if anyone was responding, “this is so creepy,” he sing-songed with uncertainty. He shot a web at a nearby street light and pulled himself up on top of it to get a better view. The eyes of his mask narrowed as he spotted a clear spot in the middle of the crowd, where the people had left a perimeter around one cowering figure. 

He recognized that jacket and the form inside of it.

“Temperance?” He murmured, anxiety rising in his chest as he swung down to her. He knelt down next to her, placing a hand on her back, “Temp?”

She shuddered deeply, a panicked sob escaping her chest. She wasn’t stuck like the others. Peter pulled gently at her shoulders, trying to get her to sit up.

“Temp, you’re okay. You’re okay,” he assured her, brushing the hair back from her face to try and look at her, “Hey, it’s alright. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” He sounded as uncertain as he felt, and he was painfully aware of it. He coaxed her to her feet, and she nodded compliantly. Peter guided her to hold onto him and swept her away as quickly as possible. He didn’t know what would happen to the people after they left, but he figured taking Temperance away would help, since she seemed to be causing it.

* * *

Temperance ran for the toilet bowl and retched the contents of her stomach the moment they entered her apartment. Peter, who’d pulled off his Spider-Man mask, stood behind her and grabbed her hair, gathering it away from her face until she waved his concern away. 

“I’m okay,” she said, clearing her throat from the burning discomfort and breathing heavily, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He asked, “Why don’t I get you some water? I’ll get you some water.”

Peter ran off to the kitchen and Temperance heard the sound of the cupboards opening and closing. She sat back on her heels and exhaled deeply, ripping a few sheets of toilet paper off the roll and wiping her mouth. She climbed shakily to her feet and walked into the living room. Peter met her there with a glass of water and handed it to her after she plopped down on the couch. He sat down on the coffee table, watching her take a few sips. It was quiet for a few minutes as he continued to let her catch her breath. Temperance felt terrible that he had been forced to take care of her in that state. He looked younger than ever right now, his face worried and uncertain.

“Thank you, Peter,” She said finally, “you should get home to May before she worries.”

“She’ll understand,” He assured her, “We should -- I mean-- shouldn’t we talk about...what happened?”

Temperance took another gulp of the water and nodded, “I’m not really sure. I think I had some kind of panic attack. It made me...lose control for a minute.”

The words  _ lose control  _ tasted more like bile than the actual bile in her mouth. Peter nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, it was a little weird, but ultimately harmless. You know?” He tried to assure her. 

“Yeah,” Temperance agreed weakly, her voice rasping. Her throat still felt like sandpaper. She took another drink.

“Maybe we should go back to my house? Or Mr. Stark’s?” Peter suggested softly. 

“No, um,” Temperance said, clearing her throat, “I think I’m alright now,” the panic had passed and all she really wanted to do now was cry bitter tears, but she didn’t want to freak Peter out any more than he already was. It was quiet for another long minute while Peter tried to think of something else to say, wringing his mask between his hands.

“Remember that time I accidentally sliced a ferry in half?” He said, earning a small, appreciative smile from Temperance. She knew that he hated talking about that, “that was way worse than this.”

Before Temperance could respond, a holographic image of Tony’s face projected from the coffee table next to Peter.

“Incoming call from Mr. Stark,” Penny announced. 

“Put him through,” Temperance said with a sigh.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter greeted when the video of Tony appeared in the projection. 

“Temp, you okay?” Tony asked, forgoing greetings. His serious and straightforward tone indicated that he definitely knew. 

“How do you know already?” Temperance asked. 

“You’re breaking news,” said Tony. Temperance closed her eyes, letting her head fall against the back of the couch, and Peter gave her a sympathetic look, “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, “I don’t know what happened, Tony. I was --”

“We’re gonna figure it out.” Tony interrupted, assuring her that she didn’t need to explain herself, “I know that thing of yours is tricky.”

Temp nodded, quiet for a moment, “what do you think Secretary Ross is gonna do?”

“Let me handle him,” Tony said, “I’m sure he’ll be calling me soon.”

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Hey,” Tony said firmly, “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

Temperance chewed on her lip, looking away.

“Why don’t you get some rest, and then we can debrief in the morning?” Tony suggested, “Breakfast at that corner cafe you like? 9 o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” Temperance said.

“I would totally go, but I have school…” Peter chimed in, earning a pointed look from Tony that screamed  _ I wasn’t talking to you.  _

His face softened after a moment, “Good looking out tonight, kid.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, perking up at the validation. 

Tony said his goodbyes, and the moment the call ended, Temperance reached for the remote, turning on the tv.

“Woah, hey,” Peter said, scooting over on the table so he was blocking her view, “Are you sure you want to do that? You could just go to bed, like Mr. Stark said.”

“Move, Peter,” She said, flipping to a news station. He did as he was told, moving to sit next to her on the couch. 

“Oh, God,” Temperance groaned, looking at the breaking news footage on the screen. They were playing a shot of her after Peter had pulled her to her feet, with everyone still kneeling around her. 

_ “As you can see from this footage, The Siren appears to be ordering the crowd to bow to her,”  _ the voice of J. Jonah Jameson commented as the footage played. Temp’s head fell into her hands.

“Seriously?” Peter said in disbelief, “Come on, Temperance, this guy’s a jerk -- nobody listens to him. You’ll see.”

“Thanks, Peter,” Temperance said, “I’m crashing. I think I’m ready to go to bed now.”

Peter, aware that he was being dismissed, nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Call me and May if you need anything, okay? I mean it.”

“I will.”

* * *

The next morning, Temperance wore sunglasses and a hooded jacket on the walk to meet Tony at her favorite corner cafe. Pulling off her sunglasses but opting to leave the hood up, she settled into the seat across from Tony and took a timid sip of her hot coffee.

“Can I have your autograph?” He asked, earning a baleful look.

“What’s the news saying?” She asked, jumping straight to the point, “I had to stop watching.”

“Good,” Tony said, “Because it doesn’t matter. The solution is to lay low, and you’re already doing that. Listening to what the news has to say about you isn’t going to help you regroup.”

“What about... _ Spider-Man?”  _ She asked, lowering her voice and remembering not to use Peter’s name in public, “Have they said anything about him?”

“Just that he swooped in and saved the day,” Tony replied, ripping off and eating a bite of his croissant. Then, he added quietly, “It didn’t look like he knew you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It was. Temperance had lost sleep the night before when she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be seen with Spider-Man in any capacity that might make it easier for the public to connect his identity to Peter Parker, who she was often seen with in public. She was relieved that nobody seemed to care about that aspect.

“And what did Ross say?”

“The reader’s digest version is that he’s agreed to do nothing, as long as you are taking appropriate measures to not escalate. I think our cooperation with the accords left him predisposed to believe us when I said that it was an accident. That, and you don’t look particularly malevolent in the footage.” Tony explained. Temperance thought of the image of herself cowering on the ground and wanted to crawl under the table.

“So, that’s it?”

“That’s it,” Tony agreed, “Except, you know, if you have ideas about what those  _ measures  _ might look like.” 

Temp nodded, taking a sip of her coffee and clearing her throat, “I think I’m gonna try therapy.”

Tony considered the idea, “yeah? Think it’ll help?”

“May does,” Temperance said, “And I don’t have any better ideas, so...figured it was worth a shot.” 

Tony nodded, “Therapy it is, then. You can put it on the company tab.”

“That goes without saying.”

* * *

When her meeting with Tony was over, Temperance managed to walk back to her apartment building without anyone taking notice of her, mostly because she was back in her ‘disguise’ and busy on the phone, assuring May that she was okay. They had talked about her making an appointment with the therapist and about having a night in soon where they could watch movies and eat takeout, no alcohol involved. 

Temperance was just hanging up with May as she reached her apartment door and scanned her finger to enter through the fancy security system Tony installed. She walked inside, pulling off her sunglasses and jacket and throwing her keys into the bowl on the foyer table. 

“Welcome, Temperance,” Penny greeted her. Before Temp could open her mouth to respond, Penny continued, “I have identified an unknown presence in the apartment. Please proceed cautiously.”

Temp straightened, slowly turning to walk closer against the wall of the hallway. This had never happened before, except for when Tony and Pepper let themselves in, and Penny would be able to identify them. Peter? She wasn’t sure if he had special access to the front door, but Penny would at least recognize Peter. She heard a small thud coming from the direction of the living room. Somebody had entered her apartment, and they hadn’t come through the door.


	3. Chapter 3

When Temperance rounded the corner from her entryway, she was expecting to see a run-of-the-mill burglar or petty thief. She was prepared for a confrontation, but not one that would produce much alarm -- at least not on her end. She assumed that the intruder didn’t know whose home they had entered without permission. The sight she was met with instead was certainly not the average cat burglar. 

"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I throw you out that window,” She said in a low tone, eyeing the stranger standing in her living room. “It’s a long fall, trust me.” 

The man in the red cloak turned to greet her, un-startled by her address. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d encountered someone so strangely dressed, and her life tended to get more interesting every time it happened. Whether the interest he’d bring was good or bad, she couldn’t immediately determine. The man was taller than her, with carefully groomed hair, graying at the sides, and his facial hair was styled into an outdated van dyke style. A giant amulet hung from his neck. He looked like a formidable opponent, and Temperance straightened to make herself taller, unwilling to show that she thought so. 

“Temperance Ward, I assure you, I pose no threat.” He told her. His voice had a deep, lilting quality. She glanced at the windows, which were unbroken. Her security system would have alerted her if he’d gone through them, anyway. 

“How did you get in here?” She questioned, her voice demanding. His arms raised slowly, and she balled her fists, preparing for a confrontation. He held his palms out toward her for a moment, as if telling her to relax, and then he waved them around, curling them into fists. Sparks of yellow appeared and formed into a portal at the command of his hands. 

The portal was facing her, and she could see a completely different room within, filled with mahogany furniture and old books. She turned to look behind her for a moment, her brain reacting as if it were a mirror, and then turned back to it. Her curiosity had brought her a few steps closer, but she abruptly stopped when she remembered the stranger who’d created the portal. She glanced up to see him watching her, studying her reaction.

“It’s alright, you can go through.” He told her. Temperance scoffed, forcing herself to take a step back despite her curiosity. 

“Who are you?” She asked. 

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange.” He replied.

“Naturally.” Temperance murmured, giving him another once-over, “Can you turn that thing off, Doctor Strange?” She asked, nodding at the portal. She wasn’t going to have this conversation worrying about whether or not he would push her through at any moment. He did as she requested, and her posture relaxed slightly when the portal disappeared.

“I’m the sorcerer supreme for this realm,” he explained, “I keep a watchlist of individuals and beings from other realms who may be a threat to this world.” 

Temperance considered the information. After a moment, she asked “Why have I never heard of you before?”

“My job isn’t quite as public as yours,” He replied. Temperance quirked an eyebrow.

“Where were you when Loki strolled into Manhattan? Was he not on your watchlist?”

Strange’s jaw clenched, and he spoke the next words with a great deal of effort, “I’m relatively new.”

“Ah,” Temp said, as if enlightened, though it really didn’t explain much, “Well, I can see why I’d be a confusing case, but I’ve never been to any realm besides this one, so...” she trailed off, her silence clearly inviting him to wrap up the interview. 

“Of course,” He agreed, “but there’s the matter of yesterday.”

Temperance crossed her arms, more out of discomfort than anger, and shifted on her feet.  _ Yesterday. _ “Yesterday was...an isolated incident,” she said quietly. 

He watched her squirm and asked with uncertainty, “Are you...alright?”

The Sorcerer Supreme sounded supremely uncomfortable.

“Yes,” She said, her pride bouncing back, “So, you saw the news and decided to pay this little visit to make sure I wasn’t a danger to anyone. Fair enough.”

It was reasonable enough, and she knew that, but it hit on her deepest insecurities of being seen as a threat instead of a protector. This man was here to make sure that she wasn’t going to be a  _ problem. _

“I’m sure that you have no intentions of hurting anyone,” He assured her, “But it’s important for me to know who in this realm is using magic and what they’re using it for.”

_ Magic.  _ She hadn’t heard her ability referred to as magic in a long time -- not since Thor had tried to explain it to her years ago. She certainly hadn’t been conceiving of it as magic -- at least not in the traditional sense of magic that she’d understood from books and movies.

“Trust me, if I could never use it again, I’d be the happiest person in the world,” Temp said. His brow furrowed.

“So it’s a matter of control?” He asked.

“I’m handling it,” She assured him. She didn’t even like talking about this stuff with Tony, let alone a stranger. Thor had been a lot easier of a confidant on matters like this, since she knew that he was predisposed to believe the best about everyone, even his own brother, but she hadn’t had the privilege of his sympathetic ear in a long time. The man nodded thoughtfully.

“How does your magic work?” He asked. 

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “I see people’s will, and I sort of grab on to it. Like pulling the reins on a horse to guide it one way or the other. I used to do it by accident before I realized I could. Now I can control it. Well, mostly.” 

* * *

“That’s a lot of power.” He said. To his credit, it sounded more sympathetic than accusatory. 

“Yeah,” She agreed. Her shoulders slumped a little more, giving her the appearance of curling into herself, as images of Steve’s face in Siberia -- when she’d taken away his free will-- flashed through her mind. She pushed them away. 

“What else can you do?” Strange asked.

“I’m strong,” She said, shrugging a shoulder, “Combat comes naturally to me. Other than that, nothing really. Now that the Avengers have disbanded, I don’t do much. Tony Stark is the only Avenger I stay in contact with, and I don’t do vigilante work. Yesterday was just a hiccup. It won’t happen again.” 

He was quiet for a long moment, still studying her. 

“It wasn’t my intention to offend you.” He said.

“You didn’t.” She said with a tight-lipped, less-than-convincing smile. He glanced around, clearing his throat. It was clear he wasn’t sure how to conclude their first meeting.

“Is there...do you have any questions for me?” He asked. She glanced to the side and back at him in an uncomfortably silent moment.

“Nope.” This, of course, wasn’t true -- there was so much she didn’t understand about his title and his sudden appearance, but she hadn’t liked the way he’d shown up, uninvited, to dredge up all of the business she’d been trying to put to bed. Still, she supposed that it was kind enough for him to even the playing field by offering to answer her questions, too. 

“Well, I’m sorry I had to intrude like this.” He told her, finally, “I shouldn’t have to bother you again.” 

Temperance nodded, resisting the urge to tell him it was okay -- it wasn’t. Though he seemed good-natured enough, she couldn’t be sure, and there was no reason he couldn’t have knocked on the door. He made another portal, which seemed to extend to the same location as before, and paused before walking through. He handed her a card and she accepted it, studying the fancy script.  _ 177a Bleecker St. _

“In case you find you need to get in touch.” He said before disappearing. 

* * *

Stephen Strange was restless. He’d already been restless in the week since he’d met Temperance Ward, but now he could barely keep himself from pacing the hardwood floors of the Sanctum. 

It had started out innocently enough -- he’d just wanted to know a little bit more about her. He shouldn’t have -- he didn’t need to. She’d told him everything he needed to know. But there had still been this niggling voice telling him it was his job, his  _ prerogative,  _ to do just a little bit of snooping.

So he’d poured over the records from the last Sorcerer Supreme, records from the last 30 years, looking for any sign of her. After a few days of frustrated page-flipping and slamming books shut, he’d been forced to tell Wong what he was looking for. The man hadn’t said anything, but the look on his face told him that he was judging the sorcerer, at least a tiny bit. Nonetheless, Wong helped him, and his work went quicker.

Wong had actually been the one to find her. She wasn’t in the records by the name of Temperance Ward, but Stephen was sure it was her -- it had to be. And that had been what put him in the middle of his current quandary. In his enthusiasm to learn more about her, he’d learned a little bit too much -- probably more than she knew.

And it wasn’t his business to tell her -- he had no obligation. But she’d just looked so... _ sad.  _ Perhaps giving her some information about her past would remedy it somehow. 

* * *

Temperance opted not to leave her apartment very much that week. The convenient excuse was of course that she wanted to wait for her very public mistake to blow over. In truth, she also didn’t feel much like facing the world. She had been keeping her distance from people when she did leave, for fear of finding herself in another crowd. She was feeling better (or happily exhausted, rather, after the expenditure of her power), but she feared that even just the association of the memory of Times Square could be enough to make her lose control. 

She’d spent most of her time holed up in her apartment reviewing applications for scholarships and binge-watching television shows, only emerging to attend her first therapy appointment, which May had asked her friend to put on the schedule as soon as possible. Dr. Whitefield had seemed kind and empathetic enough, though Temperance wasn’t convinced that the match would produce much fruit. Still, it felt good to be taking a step in any direction, even if it was one she wasn’t fully comfortable with yet. Dr. Whitefield had asked her if there was any history of depression or anxiety in the family, and she hadn’t been able to answer with any sense of certainty. For all she knew, her mother could have been a sociopath. Her father had a tendency to not take the best care of himself, but that had always seemed more of an eccentricity -- a result of his being a deep and rapid thinker. 

She didn’t like to think that there was a chance he’d ever been depressed. It caused her to think about how many opportunities to spend time with him she’d squandered and feel intense guilt over any misery he might have suffered because of her. Dr. Whitefield had successfully drawn this observation out of her and asked her if she felt guilty often. While she downplayed the answer, Temperance couldn’t help but feel that it would be easier to single out the few circumstances in which she _ didn’t  _ feel guilty. 

Despite the discomfort of having her feelings addressed so directly, Temperance left with the feeling that she had made a little bit of progress, even if it was just from an increase in self-awareness. She wasn’t looking forward to the next appointment, per se, but she could admit to the importance of keeping it.

* * *

The second time Stephen Strange visited Temperance’s apartment, he knocked on the door. He’d paced outside of the apartment building for ten whole minutes before choosing to go upstairs. He generally liked to mind his own business, and had at some point adamantly decided that he wouldn’t go back to see her again, but he must’ve changed his mind at some point, because he found himself now standing at her door. 

Temperance opened it after looking through the peephole, her expression much more open and inviting than it had been the first time. He had already prepared what he was going to say in greeting, but her casual reception threw him off, and instead, he shifted from one foot to the other, clearing his throat. 

“Doctor Strange, was it?” She asked, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, “thank you for using the door this time.”

He made a mental note to continue doing so in the future. 

“I know I said that I wouldn’t bother you again--” He began.

Temperance pushed the door open with a playful roll of her eyes, inviting him in. “It’s alright, I’m free.”

He’d caught her in a much better mood this time around, and if she was being honest, she was glad to see him again. No matter how much she tried to deny it, there was still a large part of her that yearned to know what was happening in the world she’d left behind -- what kinds of threats and excitements existed in a universe that seemed to get bigger every day. Perhaps he was coming to tell her that he needed her help with something. She’d been bored out of her mind, and boredom meant dwelling on what happened in Times Square, or, worse, dwelling on everything that had gone wrong with the Avengers.

“What brings you here, Doctor?” She asked, going to the fridge and pulling out two bottled waters. He followed her to the kitchen, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar on the side near the living space. He accepted the water with a small nod, and she sat on a stool on the other side of the counter, facing him. 

“Stephen, please,” He insisted. In answer to her question, he put the large book he'd had tucked under his arm on the counter between them. She leaned forward on her elbows, looking at it with furrowed eyebrows.

“What is it?”

“Census record. Of sorts.” He replied, eyeing her reaction as she put the pieces together.

“For the 'beings from other realms’,” she added, half question and half statement. 

“Exactly.” 

“Alright. What has it got to do with me?” She asked, suddenly becoming unsure of herself. Stephen opened the old tome to a bookmarked page. Temperance noticed his hands shaking as he turned a page and wondered if he was nervous about something. It made her nervous in turn.

“What was your mother’s name?” He asked her, not looking up from the page his eyes were scanning.

“Amora.” She answered, her tone interested but wary. 

“I thought so.” He replied. She was about to press him further, but he turned the large volume around and slid it toward her. He watched her expression as she read the entry he pointed out.

_ Amora  _

_ Asgardian _

_ Arrived on Earth August 12th, 1990 with an infant child. _

_ Reason for coming to earth: banishment from Asgard. _

_ Known on Asgard as “The Enchantress.” Able to bend men to her own will. Not compliant -- Amora poses a serious threat to earth. Sorcerer Supreme cast her away from earth. Child was permitted to stay, and has been placed in the care of Alan Ward, who has been vetted by the Sorcerer Supreme as a proper guardian. The child should pose no threat raised on Earth. The girl will be checked on every few years to ensure that her heritage does not surface in a way that poses a threat to this realm. _

“Who wrote this?” She whispered as she finished reading, not lifting her eyes from the page.

“Either the last Sorcerer Supreme or her assistant.” Stephen replied softly, unsure how to judge her reaction.

“So,” she began, processing the information, “you came back here to tell me that my father is not my father.”

Stephen wasn’t sure what to say -- it was clear now that she wasn't receiving the news well.

“Well, no I -- I thought you'd want to know.” He said. He was already beating himself up for not foreseeing that this would be troublesome news to her. He had never considered that maybe she didn't want to know more about her past. He had thought he was helping her.

“Does it say anything else about me?” She asked, slowly flipping over the page. It was clear she was working hard to keep her tone calm, “Does it say who my biological father is?”

The words  _ biological father _ tasted like bile in her mouth. 

“No, that's all I've found.” He told her, his tone apologetic, “Perhaps you could see what your father knows."

She didn't respond for a long moment before she replied in a firm and matter-of-fact tone, “He’s dead.”

Stephen wanted to crawl into a portal to Timubktu but refrained. Here he'd thought that coming to talk to her would be helpful. That it would make her happy. He could tell that he'd just broken her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn't have --”

“No.” She cut him off. “It's okay, I -- I would've wanted to know. Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do to...help?” He asked, uncomfortable. 

“No, I don't think so. I just -- I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I think I want to be alone.” She told him honestly.

“Of course.” He agreed, jumping to his feet. She closed the book and handed it back to him. He wasn't sure how to end the interaction. After having just stopped by to drop a bomb, it seemed wrong to leave so abruptly. She followed him to the door and held onto it as he stepped back into the hallway.

“You're sure you don't want to...talk about it?” He gave one last awkward attempt. She gave a small but less-than-reassuring smile and nodded. 

“Yes, thank you. I'll be okay. I'll contact you if I have any questions.” She insisted, shutting the door in his face before he could give any more parting words. 

Stephen sighed. He didn't think he could make a worse impression than his first, but it seemed he had.


	4. Chapter Four

The third time Temperance ran into Stephen Strange, she was in central park. When she first spotted him, she considered turning the other way and acting like she hadn’t seen him. A twinge of guilt over the temptation pushed her forward -- he hadn’t really done anything to her. Besides, he had already spotted her. In fact, the way he approached her with purpose indicated that this encounter wasn’t coincidental. 

It had been a month since he told her about her parentage. She had kept the information to herself, opting not to tell Tony and Pepper. They had been enjoying each other so much lately, and she hated feeling like her problems made her the center of gravity in their relationship. Besides, in truth, the revelation hadn’t delivered the killing blow to her sense of identity that it would have a year ago. She didn’t know all the circumstances surrounding her birth, but she knew that her father had chosen to make her his own -- probably knowing the risk she brought with her. He’d loved her better than anyone, and the new information only strengthened that assurance. 

She stopped in front of the wizard, tucking her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. 

“Dr. Strange,” She greeted with a nod. 

“Temperance,” He responded in kind, “please, call me Stephen.” After their last two encounters, he’d been uncertain about how she’d receive him. She didn’t seem too upset to see him, but she’d been in good spirits last time, too, and the encounter had still gone south very quickly. He had resolved not to approach her again, until...well, until necessity forced his hand.

“I need your help.” He told her, shoving his hands into his pockets. Temperance gave him a once-over. This was the first time she’d seen him wearing normal clothes -- dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a gray zip-up sweatshirt. The image was so different from the peculiar one she’d committed to memory, and it was a bit jarring. 

“With what?” She asked, putting a hand to her brow to shade her eyes from the sun. They hadn’t established the kind of relationship that included favors, but getting involved in other people’s problems was a hard habit to break, and it had been a while since someone besides Peter had needed her help. 

“Can I take you somewhere?” He asked, his voice lowering to keep the conversation confidential as he stepped closer. Temperance instinctively took a step back, but then steeled herself. She looked up into his eyes, debating the proposal. She didn’t exactly  _ know  _ him. But he  _ had  _ seemed to want to help her, even if his approach was ill-judged. It seemed appropriate to extend the same goodwill, and her gut told her she could trust him. 

“Okay,” she said after a moment. A flash of yellow sparks appeared next to her, and she gave him a wary look as the portal materialized.

“It’s alright,” he assured her, “Just step through. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You alright?” Stephen asked, putting a steadying hand on Temperance’s back as she swayed on her feet.

“Yeah.” She replied, a hand to her temple. “Do you ever get used to that sensation?” She asked. She felt like her stomach had turned inside out.

“Sooner than you’d think,” He told her, the corner of his mouth pulling up. 

“This is where we’re going?” She asked, taking a look at their surroundings. They stood on a sidewalk in front of an assisted living home. She followed him inside and signed her name on the sheet at the front desk when Stephen finished writing his own name and slid the clipboard toward her. They asked to see her ID, and she provided it, pleased to see that the women working the front desk either didn’t know or didn’t care who she was as long as she signed in and followed the rules.

Temperance hadn’t recognized the name Stephen gave when asked who he’d come to visit, and it made her more curious and uneasy about the favor. What if he was going to ask her to use her ability on somebody? The desk workers buzzed them through, and Stephen led her down the hallway and around a corner. They stopped outside of an open door and Temperance glanced into the suite to see an old man sitting in a chair by the window. He had white hair and a beard, and Temperance was positive she’d never seen him before in her life. 

“How much do you know about Odin?” Stephen asked in a low voice. 

“Not too much,” Temperance answered, “Thor’s told me a little bit about him.” Her eyebrows rose, and she glanced back over Stephen’s shoulder at the old man, putting two and two together, “wait, that’s him?” 

Stephen’s expression confirmed it, and Temperance’s eyes widened, “How? Why is he here?”

“I don’t know,” Stephen said, “I was hoping you could help me figure it out.” 

“How long has he been here?”

“I’m not sure. I just discovered him about a month ago. He’s here under a fake name, and as far as I can tell, nobody is visiting him besides me. I’ve tried speaking to him, but his mind is...not quite right. I think there’s some kind of magic at work.” He replied, glancing at the man in question, “I was hoping it would help him to speak to an Asgardian. And that you might know how to ask the right questions.”

“I’ve never met him, and I know very little about Asgard…” Temperance replied with uncertainty, “but I’ll try.” 

“Thank you.” Stephen said earnestly. He gestured for her to go in ahead of him, and she took a deep breath before walking over to Odin and taking a seat in the open chair near him. Stephen stood nearby.

“Odin?” She said softly. He continued to stare at the window through his uncovered eye. She glanced uncertainly at Stephen, who nodded for her to continue. “All-father?” She tried again. That caught his attention -- he slowly turned to face her, revealing that his right eye was covered by an eye patch. 

“Yes, my child.” He replied automatically, as if it was a reflex response his brain had held onto. 

“Do you know where you are?” She asked him, rubbing her hands on her knees to dry her sweaty palms. She’d heard a lot about Odin from Thor and hadn’t formed the best impression of him, despite Thor’s high regard. Odin stared at her unflinchingly but did not respond.

“Do you know who I am?” She asked calmly after a long pause. She didn’t expect him to, but she was trying to get him talking -- get him thinking. She might as well start with an introduction.

“Of course I know who you are, Amora.” He said, noticeably irate. Temperance’s breath caught in her throat. “How many times have I told you that you can’t trick me?”

She glanced at Stephen, whose expression urged her to press on.

“Right.” She replied, feeling guilty -- she really  _ was _ going to trick him. Just like her mother, apparently. “How...how long has it been, Odin?” 

“Apparently, longer than I thought.” He told her. “You seem different.”

His eyes were searching hers suspiciously.

“So do you. You seem...lost. Do you know how you got here?” She asked, her voice still soft. He scoffed.

“Like you don’t know, Amora. You were always conspiring with my son.” He told her gruffly. “Leading him astray from such a young age.” 

She tried to ignore everything he was saying about her mother -- resist putting together the pieces of her life that were being spewed out, so that she could do what she’d promised Stephen -- she needed to figure out why he was here.

“Your son did this?” She asked, her brow furrowing. Thor’s face had been the first to pop into her mind, but then:

“That’s what happens when you have mercy on a god of mischief. My reward for adopting such a child.”

“Loki.” She breathed, looking to Stephen. He nodded, pleased with the revelation. 

“Odin.” He addressed the man, clearly wanting to take advantage of this moment of clarity. “Do you remember why Loki sent you here?”

“Would’ve been difficult to use my seat if I was still in it,” He said simply. 

“Loki’s on the throne?” Temperance asked, “In Asgard?”

“I’ve had enough for today, Lady Amora. If you could send Frigga in on your way out, please.” He said resolutely. His mention of Thor’s mother made Temperance deflate -- they’d lost him again. She shook her head at Stephen, and he nodded toward the door, telling her they’d done enough.

“I’ll be back to see you soon, Odin.” She assured him gently. She didn’t know why she said it -- she didn’t know if she  _ would  _ be back to see him, but it seemed like the right thing to say. When they emerged into the hallway again, she turned to Stephen.

“So, Loki’s usurped the throne.” He began, all business as they walked down the hall and straight through one of his portals. Temperance considered reminding him that they hadn’t signed out, but didn’t want to seem like a stickler for rules. The portal spit them back out on the sidewalk, and Temperance crossed her arms, ignoring the vertigo feeling as she turned to face him.

“It looks that way.”

“Do you think he’ll come back for earth, then?” He asked morosely. The idea clearly didn’t sit well with him.

“I don’t think so.” Temperance replied. He raised an eyebrow at her certainty.

“I’ve spoken to Loki before,” She informed him. “His end game has always been Asgard. I think earth was just the means to an end. After Manhattan, we sent him right back where he wanted to be.” She explained, guilt solidifying in her gut like a rock. She wondered what state Asgard was in. What state Thor was in. This could be why they hadn’t heard from him in so long. Was he wandering around lost and confused in a magic haze somewhere, too? And all this time, the Avengers had been on Earth bickering like children. She didn’t realize she’d begun to chew nervously on her lip, and now Stephen was watching her. She suddenly felt the need to retreat.

“Well...I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” She told him, beginning to back away.

“Do you like Chinese?” He asked. 

“Do I like…?” She repeated, trailing off as she stared at him.

“Chinese food. Do you like it?”

She gaped at him for another moment.

“Yes,” She replied, though the inflection of her voice made it into a question.

“Do you want to get some?” He asked, his sudden confidence not waning. 

“Well, I was…” She began to gesture in the direction of central park but stopped herself. “Okay.” She found herself saying. Once she said it out loud, she realized it  _ was  _ what she wanted --what she needed-- right now. It was that, or go back to her lonely apartment or lonely office and sulk. “Yeah, okay.” She repeated, more enthusiastically this time. He looked a bit surprised, as if he’d expected her to say no, but nodded.

“Alright then, I’ll just...I know a place.” He explained, creating a portal. “Is it okay if…?” He trailed off, motioning to it. 

“Yeah,” She said with a small laugh. “I think I’m already adjusting to it.”

* * *

“So...do you just…never use transportation?” Temperance asked before biting into a steamed pork dumpling. They were sitting inside the restaurant Stephen had chosen at a table by the front windows. A storm had begun to roll in after they arrived, so the sky had darkened, and rain was falling to the pavement in heavy sheets. 

“Rarely.” Stephen admitted, popping a piece of sweet and sour chicken into his mouth.

“What a convenient ability.” Temperance mused, envy in her voice. She would kill to live in New York without experiencing the headache of transportation.

“More convenient than being able to make people do anything at any time?” He challenged lightly, and Temperance shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m serious.” She said. “You can do that all you want without having to worry about hurting anyone.” 

He conceded that point to her, nodding. She took a sip of her water, biting the straw in the silence that followed.

“So, when did you become a...sorcerer?” She asked. The title still sounded so strange to her ears. 

“A few months back,” he told her. Her eyebrows raised. She didn’t think that was the kind of thing you could just  _ learn.  _ “I was trained in a monastery of sorts.” 

That was enough context for their first real conversation about it, Temperance decided, opting to move on. She didn’t like it when people showed too much interest in her own abilities, so she didn’t want to pry.

“What did you do before that?” She asked.

“I was a surgeon.” He replied.

“Oh, wow. Why start learning magic with a salary like that?” She asked jokingly.

“I...lost the dexterity of my fingers.” He told her. “In an accident.”

Temperance thought back to the time she'd seen his hands shaking and not thought anything of it. She was ashamed that she hadn't thought to display more sensitivity. She'd done what she'd been trying to avoid -- pushed deeper in conversation than the occasion called for. She pushed down the urge to apologize when he mentioned his accident. She didn't want him to think she was pitying him.

“Well, for what it's worth,  _ Sorcerer Supreme _ is a much more impressive title than  _ surgeon _ .” She said instead, smirking at him over her water glass. The corners of his mouth pulled up the tiniest bit, and he looked back down at his food.

“You said Tony Stark is the only Avenger you keep in contact with.” Stephen reminded her, changing the subject. She nodded. She secretly prayed he wasn’t going to ask her about the others or about what happened. She’d accepted this invitation so she could distract herself from all of that for a while. And, you know, maybe make a  _ new  _ friend for once, instead of moping over her old friends and her old life.

“So, you two are close?” He asked. She was relieved that he had enough tact to put a positive spin on the subject.

“Very,” She confirmed, putting her water glass down, “Tony and I are like family. We knew each other before The Avengers. I worked for him.” 

“Oh, really?” Stephen said, leaning forward a bit in interest, “what did you do?”

“I was a contract negotiator,” She answered. He chuckled.

“I bet you were good at that,” He guessed, “where did you go to law school?” 

She shifted uncomfortably.

“I didn't,” She replied, “I actually didn't finish school.”

“Really?” Stephen said, disbelieving. 

“Really. I got an internship at Stark Enterprises, and then I moved up the chain so quickly that it seemed silly to leave all of it and go to school.”

“And you say your ability isn't convenient.” He joked, taking a bite of white rice. 

Temperance bit the inside of her cheek and adjusted the napkin laying in her lap.Her immediate instinct was to retort, but she held back, not wanting him to think that she was insecure about her intelligence. She knew that she was bright and hardworking, and that was all that mattered. She wasn't insecure about that -- but she’d be lying if she said she wasn't still insecure about what she could do. She didn't like to think about the possibility that she'd been coercing people on her way to success her whole life before she learned to be aware of it. 

Stephen seemed to have picked up on her discomfort. 

“I didn't mean to suggest--” he began, but she cut him off abruptly.

“I know. It's okay. Trust me, I'm used to people thinking all kinds of things about what I can do.” She assured him. He sighed, his guilt clearly not assuaged.

“I manage to offend you every time we meet.” He acknowledged, placing his hands flat on the table as he leaned back in his seat. Temperance smiled at that, feeling better now that he'd put it out in the open.

“Well, luckily for you, I spend a lot of time with Tony Stark, so I'm used to it.” She replied, “and he doesn't even attempt to hold back.” 

“I take that to mean there's a chance our friendship will survive,” He said.

“I hope so.” Temperance replied without taking a moment to think about how forward it might sound. The corners of his mouth lifted, and he opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a buzzing sound. Temperance's phone had begun vibrating on the table, and the noise was jarring enough to make her jump. She glanced at the screen.  _ Peter _ .

Her gaze darted between Stephen and the phone. Knowing Peter, it probably wasn't anything important, but with the trouble he sometimes got into, she didn't like to take that risk.

“I'm sorry, would you mind--” she asked, feeling like a jerk. 

“No, of course, go ahead.” He urged her. She gave him an apologetic smile and swiped the phone screen to answer it, placing it to her ear.

“Peter?” she said, “what's up?”

“Hey Temp, I think I might need your help with something,” Peter said, getting right to the point. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked. His tone was the kind that a teenager used with their parents when they were trying to break some news gently. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I'm just...well, I'm sort of stuck.” 

“Stuck where?” She pressed, mouthing a 'sorry’ at Stephen. He was doing a good job of pretending like he wasn't interested in the half of the conversation he could hear.

“In a...bank vault?” Peter answered after some hesitation.

“ _ What?”  _ Temperance barked, louder than she intended. Stephen leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Where?” 

“At 5th and 20th.” He told her sheepishly.

“Okay, sit tight. I'll be right there.” 

“Should I call the police?” Peter asked.

“No, just...don't do anything. Just wait for me.” She insisted, hanging up before he had the chance to ask any more questions. 

“I am so sorry,” Temperance told Stephen, pulling out her wallet, “I have to go.”

“Is everything alright?” Stephen asked, beckoning the server over to their table. She'd apparently already printed the bill, because she pulled it out of her apron pocket and handed it to Stephen.

“Oh, can I get mine separated so I can--” she began to ask the woman, but Stephen cut her off.

“No, I've got it.” He insisted, already slapping a few bills on the table. 

“Thank you so much. I owe you,” She said, slinging her purse over her shoulder and heading for the door. Stephen told the server to keep the change and jumped to his feet, following her out.

“Temperance!” He called out as he caught up to her on the sidewalk. It had stopped storming, but the ground was still littered with puddles. She was trying to hail a taxi, “Look, I don't want to slow you down, but perhaps I could help.” 

“No, it's...complicated.” She replied, thinking about Peter’s secret identity _. _ She needed to get him out of that vault without anyone realizing he'd been in there. The police already didn't like Spider-Man, and she was sure they'd love to pin whatever had happened on him if they found him inside that bank. She growled when a taxi passed her without stopping. Stephen grabbed her shoulders gently and turned her so that he could pin a firm stare on her.

“I’d like to help you. You can trust me,” He told her. Temperance sighed, her thoughts still moving too quickly. It wasn't that simple. She would have to...what? Use her strength to destroy the vault door? Call someone who worked at the bank and persuade them to let him out and never tell anyone? Her stomach turned at the thought of having to do that, “at least let me take you where you need to go.” Stephen insisted. 

That caught Temperance's attention. Of course. Maybe it  _ was  _ that simple.

* * *

Stephen stood next to Temperance, looking up at the large brick building -- the bank she’d asked him to take her to.

“Inside the vault?” He repeated. Temperance turned to face him, nodding.

“I know it looks bad,” She said, “but I promise, it's not. A friend of mine was trying to stop a bank robbery, and he got stuck inside.”

“Alright then,” Stephen replied, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching before he created a portal.

“Now I  _ really  _ owe you.” Temperance told him gratefully, surprised that he hadn’t needed more convincing. The two of them stepped through the portal.

“Woah!” Peter exclaimed, jumping back as Temperance stepped through the circle that he'd just leaned forward to inspect. “Temp! What  _ was _ that?”

Stephen stepped through the portal behind her, walking right into her back when she stopped short to address the teenager. 

“Are you okay?” Temperance asked, eyeing the boy up and down. Peter barely heard her, watching Stephen with curiosity. He wasn’t wearing his mask, and there was no point in grabbing for it now. The man had already seen him.

“I'm fine. Who’s that?” Peter asked, gesturing to Stephen. Temperance rolled her eyes.

“How did you get here?” She asked, ignoring his question.

“Temperance, perhaps this is a conversation best held elsewhere,” Stephen spoke up from over her shoulder.

“Right,” She agreed, “could you take us back to my apartment?”

“Of course,” He replied, conjuring yet another portal. Peter’s eyes widened.

“We get to go through that?” He asked, his voice rising in anticipation.

“Yes.” Temperance told him flatly, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him through ahead of her. When they arrived in Temperance’s apartment, Peter grabbed his head, groaning.

“It'll pass.” Stephen told him. Temperance motioned for Peter to sit on a bar stool and went to grab a first aid kit from the bathroom. He'd managed to cut his forehead. Peter obeyed, and Stephen stood with his hands in his pockets. An awkward silence fell on them once Temperance left the room. Stephen eyed Peter’s costume.

“I'm Peter.” Peter said with a timid, tight-lipped smile. 

“Doctor Stephen Strange.”

“That's a cool name.” Peter replied. Temperance hurried back into the room with rubbing alcohol, cotton pads, and a bandage. 

“So let's hear it,” She told the boy, pouring some alcohol onto a cotton pad and dabbing it to his forehead. He glanced hesitantly at Stephen, “He's okay.” She assured him. That was all the assurance Peter needed.

“Well, I was in the middle of making these guys put back the money they stole from that bank, and they managed to trip the alarm and slip out before the doors shut,” He explained, “Are you gonna tell Mr. Stark?”

The last bit sounded apprehensive, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“I don’t suppose there’s any reason he needs to know,” She replied. 

“Thanks, Temp,” Peter said, visibly relieved. He glanced over her shoulder at Stephen, who had drifted away to give the two some privacy and was pretending to be interested in the wall art in Temperance’s living room. 

“Were you on a date with that guy?” He asked, his expression turning mischievous. 

“No,” Temperance replied in a hushed tone, indicating that he should also keep his voice down.

“He said he’s a doctor. Are you dating a doctor?” He continued, and though he’d lowered his voice a bit, too, it was clear that Stephen could still hear them.

“ _ No,”  _ Temperance repeated, her voice now holding a warning in it, “I’ll tell you more about it later.” She pressed the cut on his forehead harder, and he jerked back with a loud  _ ouch _ . She smirked triumphantly, placing a bandage over it, “There. All better. You should get home before May worries.”

“I was kind of hoping I could grab a shower before I head home. I fell into a dumpster earlier, and May’s gonna be on my case if she smells it, and I really don’t feel like telling this story ever again,” He explained. Temperance took in his hopeful expression and sighed. She had a very hard time saying no to Peter Parker. 

“Alright. You know where it is,” She caved, nodding toward the bathroom.

“Thanks, Temp,” He exclaimed, jumping up and moving in to hug her. She reared back out of his reach.

“ _ After.  _ After the shower. Go.”

He hurried off to the bathroom, and Temperance turned to face Stephen with an apologetic smile.

“So, that’s Spider-Man,” Stephen began. Temperance chuckled, nodding.

“Yep, that’s him.”

“A little bit young to be going after criminals, isn’t he?” He asked, moving back across the living room to stand in front of her. She shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah, well...teenagers, you know? They do what they want.” 

Stephen chuckled at that, and Temperance smiled. Stephen stepped closer, and Temperance reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly looking for something to do with her hands.

“Listen, I can’t thank you enough for helping with that," She began, her voice lowering in volume as he stopped just two feet in front of her. 

“You helped me with Odin. It’s the least I could do,” He reminded her. She’d almost completely forgotten that they’d been to see Odin earlier that evening. 

“Right, about that. I meant what I told him. About visiting again. So, I’ll keep an eye on him -- let you know if I learn anything else,” She told him, choosing to shove her hands into the back pockets of her jeans so she would stop fiddling with them.

“You don’t have to do that,” He insisted.

“No, I do. I don’t know where Thor is, but I do know that he wouldn’t want Odin to be alone like this,” She argued gently, “He was there for me when I lost my dad, and I just...I owe him this.”

Stephen nodded, clearing his throat and taking a step back. “Right. Well...from what I hear, Odin is a force to be reckoned with, so let me know when you plan to go back, and I can come with you.” 

Temperance nodded gratefully. There was a long moment where the two held eye contact and said nothing, before Temperance heard the bathroom door open.

“Temp?” 

She looked over to see Peter’s head poking out of a crack in the door. 

“There are no towels in here.” 

“They’re in the hall closet. I’ll bring you one in a second,” She called. He thanked her and closed the door before opening it again.

“And some clothes?” 

Temperance rolled her eyes playfully at Stephen, and the corners of his mouth quirked.

“I’ll see what I can find. Give me a minute,” She called again. She turned her attention back to Stephen.

“So, if I want to get a hold of you, do I have to use some kind of summoning circle?” She joked. Stephen’s eyes crinkled at the corners. The card he’d left for her had only an address. 

“I’ll leave my number with you.”

By the time Peter emerged from the bathroom in the sweatpants and t-shirt Temperance had given him, Stephen had left, and Temperance was sitting on the couch with her feet propped up, scrolling through an app on her phone.

She heard the sound of the tv clicking on as Peter plopped down on the couch next to her, holding the remote. His feet settled on the coffee table next to hers, and she used her own foot to push them off.

“You’re supposed to be going home,” she reminded him. May really would be starting to worry if he didn’t at least call to check in. 

“So how’d you meet that guy?” He asked, ignoring her remark, “who is he? Is he going to be an Avenger?” 

“Yeah, about him,” Temperance said, returning the gesture by ignoring his questions, “You know how I said I wouldn’t tell Tony about the bank vault?”

Peter nodded.

“Well, how about we both just agree not to tell him about tonight at all.” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed just a bit, evaluating her as he thought about the proposition, “You don’t want me to tell Mr. Stark about this Strange guy,” he said, “Why?”

It was a good question, and she didn’t know the answer to it. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to keep this from Tony for now. Maybe she was enjoying having this to herself -- the discovery of Odin on earth and the things she’d learned about her own past through Stephen. Her whole life had been steeped in the Avengers Initiative for years, and everything she did was Tony’s business -- was _ everyone’s _ business. But not this.

“It’s not a secret. It’s just not any of his business,” She tried to explain. His eyebrows raised.

“So, the two of you are…?” He trailed off, his eyebrows waggling just enough to show what he was implying. 

“ _ No,”  _ she said, “he’s just helping me figure some things out. That’s it.” 

“Oh.” Peter replied, his expression thoughtful, “So… is he from Asgard?” 

“No, he’s a sorcerer. He’s charged with protecting this realm or something.”

“A sorcerer” Peter repeated, “that’s so cool.” 

“It is pretty cool.” She agreed after a moment, taking the spoon from him and stealing a bite of moose tracks.

“I should’ve had him put me back in my room before he left, huh,” He said after a moment, earning a laugh from Temperance.


	5. Chapter Five

“Odin, how are you?” Temperance asked as she sat down in her usual chair. 

“Fine, thank you.” He replied slowly, his gaze suspicious. Temperance gestured for Stephen to have a seat as well, so he wasn’t towering over the man, and he obliged, pulling up a chair next to hers.

“Do you remember speaking to me?” She asked Odin. 

“No. I’ve never met you,” He replied, already losing patience with her. Temperance and Stephen exchanged a glance.

“So you don’t know my name?” She continued.

“Like I said, I’ve never seen you before.” 

So, he didn’t think she was her mother this time. She couldn’t tell if that meant his mind was doing better or worse today. Either way, she would have to use a different approach.

“I’m Amora’s daughter,” She told him. His eyes glazed over in deep recollection.

“How unfortunate for you,” He said after a long moment. Temperance didn’t respond at first, chewing the inside of her cheek as she swallowed the insult. So far, Odin was exactly how she’d always pictured him.

“I’m a friend of Thor,” She said, deciding to take a different direction. 

“My son?” Odin asked.

“Yes, that’s right. Your son Thor and I are very close,” She repeated, “Do you know where he is?”

He was quiet again for a long time. Becoming impatient, Temperance decided to prompt him again, “Last time we spoke, you said Loki was ruling Asgard.”

“He is?” Odin replied, his eyebrows furrowing. 

_ Good question,  _ Temperance thought. That could’ve been faulty information. She looked to Stephen, unsure where to go from here.

“Can you tell us about the last time you saw Thor?” Stephen asked the old man.

“Why do you want to know about my son? What do you want with him?” He asked, his voice full of vitriol. 

“Nothing,” Temperance insisted, placing a hand softly on his, where it lay on the arm of his chair. She expected him to recoil, but he didn’t, “I want to know about him because I care about him. I’m worried something terrible has happened to him. I haven’t seen him in a long time. No one has.”

His expression shifted from suspicious to confused to frightened, and Temperance pulled back, shooting a wary glance at Stephen. Yet another topic change was in order -- they weren’t getting anywhere with this right now.

“I read a story about you,” Temp told Odin with a small, reassuring smile.

“A story?”

“Mhm. About Mimir’s Well.” She prompted. Odin’s face brightened the tiniest bit, as if he was remembering something fondly.  _ Proudly _ . Temperance had been reading a lot about Norse mythology lately -- she didn’t know how many stories were true and how many had been watered down from real events, but she thought the ones that were true could serve as good litmus tests for how well Odin’s memory was working.

“Ah, yes. Mimir.” 

Stephen’s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced between the two, but he didn’t say anything.

“Would you tell us that story?” She asked gently, her expression like an eager child’s. A trace of a smile appeared on Odin’s face and he gazed dreamily out the window as he spoke. 

“The Well was for gaining wisdom,” He told them. Temperance leaned forward to show that she was listening intently, “Before me, only Mimir had drunk its water. I knew that in order to rule my people, I would need the wisdom that only the well could offer. So I went to Mimir, and I said ‘All I ask is for one drink.’ And he said no. I was so angry -- Mimir was my uncle, you see. My mother’s brother. So I said ‘Please, Uncle. Just one drink. Name your price.’” 

Temperance glanced over to see Stephen leaning back in his chair with his hands folded, still wearing that same perplexed look, and she tried not to smile.

“What did he ask for?” Stephen prompted, noting that Odin had gone silent and was beginning to drift too far into the past. Odin turned his gaze to the younger man, his expression turning mischievous.

“My eye.” He answered proudly. 

“He cut out your eye?” Stephen said.

“No,” Odin said, “I did.” 

Temperance watched Stephen’s expression, this time unable to hide her amusement. Odin gave a hearty chuckle as well.

“So, you tossed your eye into the pool, and you received wisdom,” She said. Odin nodded. 

“Was it worth it?” Stephen asked, staring down at his hands. Temperance looked at them, too, studying the pattern of scars that criss-crossed them.

“Of course,” Odin replied, as if it should have been obvious, “I see far more clearly with one eye now than I ever did with two.” 

“Would you tell us another story?” Temperance asked sweetly, placing a friendly hand on Odin’s knee.

The one-eyed gaze in question turned back on Temperance, and she suddenly felt very exposed.

“You have your mother’s charms,” He announced, as if he was confirming something. Her face felt hot under the sudden scrutiny.

“I can persuade people,” She admitted, figuring it was senseless to try and hide it, “But I haven’t used it on you. I wouldn’t.” 

“Oh, I know,” Odin replied with that condescending smirk she was beginning to associate with him, “I’m not referring to that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, then,” Temperance said, straightening. She wasn’t comfortable with the turn this conversation had taken. 

“Men fall at your feet,” Odin said. Temperance bristled even more.

“Temperance, perhaps that’s enough for today,” Stephen coaxed gently, placing a hand on her elbow to ground her and let her know that they could leave at any time.

“They can’t help it,” Odin continued. He knew his words were bothering her, and he was enjoying it. 

“You know nothing about me,” Temperance said. 

“I don’t have to,” He challenged, glancing at Stephen and then back at her, “I knew your mother. She could melt a man into a malleable mass of devotion and then twist him into a new creation if she wanted to. She was so manipulative even  _ she _ didn’t know where her magic ended and her own will began.”

“That’s enough,” Stephen cut him off sternly, standing up. He pulled Temperance to her feet as well, “He’s clearly had enough company for the day. We’re leaving.” 

* * *

“The man can barely remember his own children, Temperance. You can’t take what he says too seriously,” Stephen said as they descended the front steps of the building (after signing out properly, per Temperance’s insistence).

“He seems to remember my mother just fine,” She said. She was remaining relatively calm, despite the fair amount of angst that was bubbling under the surface, “but it doesn’t matter, because I’m not her.”

“You’re not,” Stephen agreed, glad that she was able to make the distinction. They walked down the sidewalk together, Temperance working herself into a lather the more she thought about Odin’s smug face.

“I don’t manipulate men -- I don’t even date. I take every possible precaution. The nerve that he would assume I just...go around  _ using _ men.”

“It was completely uncalled for,” Stephen agreed, before stopping short with furrowed eyebrows, “You don’t date?”

“No,” Temp said before reverting back to her rant, “and he so obviously was saying it just to get under my skin.”

“You don’t date because you don’t want to, or you don’t date as a rule?” Stephen asked, unwilling to move on from the subject so quickly. 

Temperance slowed a bit to match his pace, “Well, there are ethical considerations, you know.”

“I’m sure you’d be able to tell if you were coercing someone into dating you,” Stephen replied, “You have your ability more in hand than that.”

“Maybe,” Temperance said, “but  _ they _ wouldn’t necessarily know that. I’m sure it won’t surprise you to know that I receive a great deal of suspicion from people.”

“I’m sure,” said Stephen, “but I don’t think keeping people at arm’s length is the most reasonable solution. Just because you haven’t met someone who can handle it, doesn’t mean you won’t. And you need to exercise more trust in yourself and your ability.”

“Well you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t agree that joining Tinder is a  _ reasonable solution  _ to controlling my magic,” She responded snidely.

“That’s not what I said.”

The conversation hit a lull when they realized it wasn’t going anywhere productive, and Temperance chose to change the subject, unwilling to argue with him.

“What about that Mimir stuff?” She asked, giving him a sideways glance as they continued walking.

“What about it?”

Temperance shrugged, “it just seemed like it got kind of personal for you.”

Stephen shoved his hands into his pockets, nodding, "I guess I sympathize with the sacrifice."

Temperance made note of the way he’d tucked his hands away and gave him a small, reassuring smile, “do you ever miss being a surgeon?”

“No,” Stephen replied, “I mourn it, but I don’t miss it. Some sacrifices are worth it if they mean you can live your real identity. To be the person you were destined to be.”

“How did you know you were destined to be Sorcerer Supreme?” 

“I didn’t,” he told her honestly, “but once I knew all this existed, it felt impossible to do anything else. It was right.”

Temperance nodded thoughtfully, and the two walked in silence for a minute. 

“Do you want me to take you back home?” Stephen offered to create a portal, unsure if he’d upset her. 

“Nah,” Temperance replied wistfully, “I’d rather keep walking. Sometimes the walk is the best part of going somewhere.” 

Stephen agreed with a smile and continued beside her in a comfortable silence.

* * *

"Do I keep people at arm's length?" Temp asked later that night, tinkering with an old model of Stark Tower that Pepper kept on display in her office. Pepper Potts looked up from the screen she'd been reading and sat back in her chair.

"What makes you say that?" She replied. Temperance sighed and turned to look at her, leaning against the display stand.

"Do I?" She persisted. She was afraid to hear the answer, but she had gone to Pepper for the truth. She knew if anyone was going to be unflinchingly honest, it would be her.

"I think that's oversimplifying it a bit," Pepper replied, eyeing the younger woman, "you don't trust just anybody, but why would you? You have a big heart, and you let people in when it counts. And once you find your people, you're fiercely loyal."

"Right," Temp said, "but does it go too far? Do you think I miss opportunities? Because I don't give people a chance or whatever?"

Pepper gave her a reassuring smile and patted the space next to her on the office sofa. Temperance begrudgingly sat, pulling one leg up underneath herself. 

"Maybe sometimes," Pepper conceded, "but everybody has missed opportunities. Everybody has regrets. You can't control things that have already happened, Temp. But the future is an open book. That's where all your power lies."

Temperance was quiet for a moment, considering her words. 

"How did you end up with Tony again?" She asked. Pepper laughed, shaking her head.

"At least he knows how lucky he is," she replied with a signature Pepper Potts smirk. Seeing that smirk, Temp remembered why their relationship was no surprise. Pepper slapped a friendly hand down on her knee before continuing, "and as far as  _ not giving people a chance  _ goes, you should cut yourself some slack. You have a lot more to consider than most people when it comes to interpersonal relationships. Your heart is in the right place -- you want to protect people. I think, one day, you'll meet somebody that you don't have to protect. Someone who you trust and who trusts you. For some women, it's just harder to find a man that's on our level," She said with a wink.

"I'm not sure when this turned into boy talk," Temperance said, "but I'm gonna have to hit the eject button if it continues."

Pepper shoved her fruitlessly, and Temperance laughed when the momentum pushed Pepper more than her. 

"Keep laughing," Pepper threatened, "I've got all kinds of work here you could do." 

"Really?" Temp said, egging her on, "I try to have a moment with you, and you threaten to pile work on me. What a great boss you are."

"Can it, Ward," Pepper threatened with mock authority, "or I'll can  _ you." _

* * *

  
Temperance rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet as she rang the doorbell, trying to manage her nervous energy. The building was far more formidable than she’d imagined it, and she toyed with the idea of leaving before he answered the door.  _ If you had left a second ago, you could already be around the corner, but it’s too late now.  _ She thought to herself, and then, when there was still no answer for another agonizing minute, she repeated the thought process two or three more times. Still, she stood there fidgeting when the large oak door finally swung open. 

“Hi, I was just in the neighborhood--” she started to say, pausing when she realized she wasn’t speaking to Stephen. She glanced down at the address on the card in her hand, “I mean...is this the sanc--does Stephen Strange live here?”

The man, who didn’t seem enthusiastic to have a visitor, raised an eyebrow at her, “Who wants to know?”

“Um...me?” Temp replied with a weak laugh, “I mean, Temperance Ward. The Siren.” 

He turned away from her, pushing the door open further, and she mouthed  _ The Siren?  _ incredulously to herself -- she never used that name for herself. She resolved to pull herself together. Pepper's talk with her, despite being cheesy, had made her realize something, and she had resolved to go out on a limb today and see what happens.

“Follow me,” the man beckoned, starting up the large, open staircase that led to the second floor. Temp took in the grandeur of the place as she followed him. 

“Do you live here, too?” She asked, trying to make conversation, “Or do you just work here during the day?”

“I help protect the Sanctum,” the man replied. It didn’t really answer her question, but she didn’t press, catching the hint that he wasn’t very interested in talking. He glanced back at her as he led her through a hallway to make sure she was still following, “I’m Wong.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Wong,” Temp replied, eyeing an artifact on display as they passed by it. This house looked like a museum.

“Don’t touch anything,” Wong said.

“Wasn’t going to,” Temperance murmured to herself.

Wong stopped at a door and knocked to announce their arrival before throwing the door open and stepping in. 

“Got a visitor,” He said, turning and nodding his head for Temperance to enter. She did, and Wong closed the door behind her, cutting off her meek  _ thank you.  _ She sighed and turned to face the room -- it was a study full of books, and Stephen had risen from the tufted armchair behind his desk when she entered. 

“Hi,” Temp began, “sorry to drop by without any notice.”

“It’s okay,” Stephen said, walking around the desk so that it wasn’t separating them, “is everything alright?”

Temperance took a few steps further into the room, fiddling with her hands, “Yes, everything’s fine. Nothing like that.”

Stephen studied her for a moment, expecting her to continue. There was a long pause. 

“Are you busy?” Temp finally asked, “if you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“No, I’m not busy,” Stephen assured her, “What’s going on?”

“Okay,” Temperance said, deciding to just come out with it, “well...the thing is, I realized why it feels so nice to be around you.” 

Stephen, who had taken to leaning casually against the front of his desk, straightened again, “Oh?”

“You don’t have any cords.”

Stephen’s eyebrows furrowed, surprised by the answer. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, then opened it again, “Cords?”

“Oh,” Temperance said, stepping forward, “remember when I told you that I grab onto people’s will, like the reins of a horse?” 

Stephen nodded.

“Well, when I sense somebody’s will, it kind of feels like cords. Furling and unfurling around them. And around me. It’s hard to explain. But I call them cords.” 

“And I don’t have any?” Stephen asked.

“No,” Temperance said with a concentrated stare, as if she was double-checking to make sure, “I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. I guess it’s kind of like when you have a cold...and you have it for so long that you can’t even imagine how good it would feel to breathe through your nose, but then when the cold actually does go away--”

“You don’t notice,” Stephen finished, nodding, “makes sense. Have you ever met someone without cords before?”

“Once,” Temp said, “but he was under the influence of mind control. Not mine though. A different kind.” 

Stephen’s head cocked to the side as he considered pressing for more information about  _ that  _ situation, but he passed up the opportunity, instead pulling a necklace out from underneath his dark blue tunic. Temperance stepped closer, eyeing the piece curiously. It was a small medallion hanging on a piece of jute string.

“What is it?” She asked. 

“It’s a charm. It wards off enchantments and spells that are directed at me. Wong wears one, too, and there are similar protections on the sanctum itself. You’re safe from temptation here.”

Temp took in a shaky breath, the news hitting her harder than she would’ve expected. She was never free from it -- every second of every day -- unless she shut herself up alone in her apartment. The thought of being here, with people, and still being able to take a deep breath...she was having trouble even processing it. All she knew was that it felt  _ amazing.  _ Stephen watched her process, waiting patiently for her response.

“You could tell me more about how my magic works?” She asked finally. Stephen smiled.

“What are we looking for?” Temp asked, pulling a thick volume from the shelf and dutifully flipping through it. It was full of unfamiliar symbols and old, fountain-inked script that she found both interesting and creepy. Stephen looked up from the Book of the Vishanti with a quizzical expression -- his mouth turned down at the corners like he was trying and failing not to smile. She was so quick to jump in and help, despite having no idea what she was looking at.

“It’ll be in here,” he told her, gesturing to the book in his hands. Temperance came to stand near him, watching as he flipped through the pages. Though it would only take him two minutes to find the right spell, he yielded the book to her possession, much to her surprise.

“What we’re looking for is called the Runes of Revelar,” he said, nodding toward the book, “and be careful with that. It’s ancient.”

“Yeah, I sensed that,” Temp murmured, carefully turning a page. She moved even more slowly than he anticipated, her eyes roving over every page with curiosity. Stephen waited patiently, watching her expressions as she read.

“They couldn’t put these in alphabetical order?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she flipped another page. 

“That’s a compendium of knowledge attained by all the Sorcerer Supremes of the earth dimension. It’s not exactly linear.”

“You sorcerers and your diaries,” she murmured with a smirk. An idea occurred to her and she grabbed a chunk of pages, carefully releasing them to watch them flip. She might not know what many of these symbols were, but she knew what runes looked like. She’d seen them on Mjolnir a hundred times. Whatever they were looking for was clearly of Norse origin, and that narrowed it down. 

“Here it is,” she announced after a moment, “right next to the Seven Suns of Cinnabon.” 

“That’s Cinnabus,” Stephen corrected her, though he got the feeling she was teasing him, “It generates an energy blast as hot as seven suns.”

“Not as useful as a Cinnabon spell, I think.” 

“I haven’t had occasion to use it yet,” he admitted, taking the book from her and looking over the Runes of Revelar entry. 

“Can you read runes?” Temp asked.

“Well enough,” he replied. He must have been studying a lot since taking up the position of sorcerer supreme, Temperance thought. He glanced up at her, “can you?”

“Only if it says  _ worthy  _ or  _ Thor _ ,” she quipped. 

Stephen continued to study the passage, trying to commit it to memory enough that he could put the book down and focus on the magic. 

“By the Omnipotent Hands of Oshtur: The truth revealed in brands, marks, and seals.” He said, waving his hands in a pattern that looked the same as every other motion he made to Temperance, though she knew it must be a distinct part of the incantation. Temp took in a breath to begin asking questions, but stopped when the effects of the spell appeared. There was a round, intricately inscribed golden insignia projected in the air between them, and the trail of light that led to her chest suggested that  _ she  _ was the projector. It reminded her of the interactive projections Tony used, and she marveled at how similar Stephen’s magic looked to science. 

“What is it?” She asked, a tinge of alarm in her tone. Stephen studied it carefully, eyes narrowed as he focused on the characters inscribed around the emblem.

“It’s a reflection of magic that’s been used on you -- spells that have been cast on your ethereal body.”

“Like…my soul?” She asked, heart racing.

“Sort of,” Stephen answered, grabbing the Book of the Vishanti again and flipping through it. Temperance bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to be patient in waiting for an explanation, “When you’re under a spell, you carry the mark of it -- like a metaphysical tattoo. This spell calls those up and reveals them to the naked eye.”

“So what kind of spell is that?” She asked, nodding at the seal that was still projecting from her body. 

“It’s a binding spell,” he replied, “it binds your magic in particular. It’s like a lock to keep your natural abilities at bay. It’s the reason they’re so unreliable.”

As much as she hated having her abilities called  _ unreliable,  _ she had to admit it was a relief to hear that there was a reason for it besides just a lack of control on her part, “Has it been there my whole life?”

“I’d venture to say so,” Stephen said, “It fades over time, but very slowly. It explains why you weren’t fully aware until adulthood.” 

“So I’m going to get worse?” Temp asked, her brow furrowing with worry.

“Not worse,” Stephen said carefully, trying not-so-subtly to reframe her perspective, “but more powerful. More control will come along with it.”

“How can you be sure?” Temp challenged him. He didn’t respond, and she sighed, “who gave it to me?”

“I’m not sure,” Stephen admitted, studying the symbol again. 

“Your predecessor?” She suggested. 

Stephen shook his head, “No, I’d know if this was her work. Sorcerers have a sort of signature to their work. I don’t know whose this is, but it’s not the Ancient One.”

_ The Ancient One.  _ Temp felt that one merited an explanation, but chose to let it lie for now. Stephen gave her a meaningful look that indicated he had a guess but would rather she come to the conclusion herself, because he didn’t want to be the one to voice it.

“My mother?” Temperance asked, voicing his thoughts.

“That does seem the most likely answer.”

“Is it? What motivation could she possibly have for doing that?”

“To protect you?”

Temperance gave him a look that suggested this was a ridiculous and perhaps even offensive answer, and Stephen thought it best to leave that idea alone.

“She did name you Temperance, didn’t she? Maybe she wanted you to be different.”

“My dad could have named me,” Temperance reminded him, though she doubted it. Her father had told her many times that her mother had chosen her name, and while much of her origin had been hidden from her, she didn’t see any reason for him to have lied about that. Stephen sensed that she was feeling defensive and decided that a change in topic was in order.

“I’m not as familiar with Norse manifestations of magic as an Asgardian would be, but I’ll do some reading and see if I can devise a way to break it.”

“Break it?” Temperance asked with a stern expression, “if it’s there to protect me, why would I break it?”

Stephen’s expression was serious and earnest, “Because a higher level of functioning means you’ll have space to breathe. Maybe you could even come to terms with your ability. But you have my word that nothing happens unless you want it to. And you’ll be welcome here no matter what.”

Temperance nodded, crossing her arms across her chest, “Thank you. I’m not saying never. But I’m not ready to cut out my eye just yet.”

“Understandable,” Stephen replied, “Would it help if we ordered Cinnabon?”

“It certainly couldn’t hurt,” Temperance replied, her eyes crinkling at the sides as she laughed.

  
  



End file.
